


The True High Queen of Skyrim

by Necrovallied



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Blackmail, Cheating, F/F, Forced Marriage, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-08-18 20:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16524164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Necrovallied/pseuds/Necrovallied
Summary: Malina was just a hunter from Falkreath who wanted a new life in Windhelm. She got her wish, but it took a direction she never expected. After being forced to marry Ulfric Stormcloak, the leader of the rebellion, her life grows unbearable - that is, until she meets Maven Black-Brair on a political trip to Riften. It is hard for her to fathom the idea that the two most powerful people in Skyrim would do anything for her.





	1. How It Began

Malina sighed as she pulled her favourite bear fur cloak over her shoulders, fastening the ornate clasp into place. The cold walls of the Palace of Kings always tormented her when she was alone, reminding her of her own principles she went against every day staying here. It had been 14 months since she had become Malina Stormcloak - a title she had barely any choice in making. 

\-------

The entire mess she had fallen into started when she moved to Windhelm from Falkreath 15 months ago. She needed to get out of Falkreath - the dramatic amount of death that haunted the place bothered her greatly, and after the sudden death her brother Eliik, she had decided Windhelm was the place to go. Malina’s family had been in Falkreath for generations, but they supported her choice to go elsewhere, helping her pack up everything she needed and giving her as much money as they could spare so she could find a nice home. She soon found herself on a rocky wagon, heading to one of the oldest cities in Tamriel. 

Her uneventful wagon ride took only four days, but it left her tired. When she arrived at Windhelm, her wagon driver had to help her get her pack on, and she bid him farewell as she headed up the stone steps to the behemoth of a city. The snow had stopped for the time being, which helped keep her moving fast to the huge doors. 

A guard stopped her when she reached the door. “Halt. What business do you have in the hold?” 

The gruff voice of the guard woke her up from her rather sleepy state. “I am Malina Knot-Heart. I was looking to move here.”

The guard took a moment and sighed. “Well, welcome. I’m not sure which houses you may be able to choose from, but you could just talk to the Jarl's steward about that.” He leaned in a bit closer and whispered, “Do be careful - there are some rough folk around here.”

She nodded politely. “Thank you for the warning…” He helped her push the heavy doors open, and she was faced with the bustle of midday Windhelm. 

Heeding the guard’s advice, she headed to the Palace of the Kings to speak with the Jarl's steward. Her stomach felt as if it was in knots, knowing that this was where Ulfric Stormcloak resided, but she had heard a rumour he was captured by the Imperials only a few weeks ago. It was the only thing people could speak about until the destruction of Helgen became the new focus. 

She entered the palace and her face was hit with the warmth from around the grand table in the centre of the room. She pulled the thick scarf from around her mouth and locked her eyes on the Jarl’s well-dressed steward. He had noticed her enter, and walked over to meet her. “Hello there, miss, can I help you?” 

She took a second to put on a rough smile. “Hello there! I am Malina Knot-Heart. I have been on a long journey from Falkreath and I was wondering if you had any property in the hold for sale. I can pay up front four thousand gold, and I am hoping to properly sell my furs and meats in your city.”

The steward smiled nicely. “Well, nice to meet you, Malina. I am Jorleif, personal steward to Ulfric Stormcloak. I think I may have a property available, but it’s for five thousand. I can allow you to pay four thousand now, but you will have to pay back the one thousand very soon.” He walked over to a room attached to the hall and came back with some paperwork.

Malina happily signed them and dug into her bag for her coin. As she was counting out her coins she looked around and spoke gently to Jorleif. “It seems Ulfric isn’t around…” 

Jorleif sighed and folded his hands. “Unfortunately, I cannot speak too much about it, but he has been absent for a little while. I am hoping he gets back soon - the people are starting to stir. Their leader being gone causes such a rattle.”

Malina had to stifle the laugh she had sitting in her throat. Although she was not one to get into politics, she had always seen the hypnotic pull the Stormcloaks had over the Nords as silly. Even though she was a proud Nord woman herself, she saw the rebellion as something that simply was not needed, and the awful way they treated everyone who wasn’t a Nord made her sick. She finished up the paperwork, and gently placed the quill she was holding back down on the table. 

She opened her mouth to speak to Jorleif, but the loud slam of the doors to the Palace of the Kings startled her into silence. A figure walked in, shrouded in a cloak, and it took her a few moments to realise it was Ulfric Stormcloak.

“Ulfric!” Jorleif exclaimed, rushing over to him. “Your messenger arrived over a week ago. What took you so long to get back here?”

Ulfric removed his hood, revealing the striking features of a Nord - his blond hair being the most prominent of them. “Ah - you worry too much, Jorleif. I hit a roadblock in Eastmarch - a large Imperial camp was set up there, so I had to wait a couple of days until I could safely travel past.” 

He stretched his shoulders back, and noticed Malina standing next to the table, her bag at her feet and her hands lightly combing her copper hair. He stood frozen for a second, taking in her features before looking to Jorleif. “And you worry like this in front of a guest! What’s her business here?”

“Oh, she just purchased a home here. A hunter, it seems,” he said, knowing he was out of earshot of her. “Malina, I believe her name was, came up from Falkreath. That's all I really know.” 

Ulfric nodded and walked over to her. “Nice to see another strong Nord woman taking shelter within our walls.” He looked down to her and grinned coyly. “If you need anything at all, don’t be afraid to ask my steward.” 

As he said that, Jorleif shimmied passed Ulfric and held out a brass key to Malina. “This is the key to your house. It’s attached to the Aretino Residence. The place is empty, so don’t be too worried about bothering anyone.” Jorleif picked her bag up and helped her get it over her shoulder. “I would love to chat with you longer, but Ulfric and I have some important things to discuss-”

Ulfric raised his hand and stopped Jorleif. “Malina, was it?” 

She nodded.

“Would you like to join me for dinner tonight? I know it's probably been a long trip for you.”

Jorleif let out an exasperated sigh. He knew this game Ulfric played all too well.

“I suppose I could…” she said quietly, her eyes dashing over to Jorleif. He was obviously biting the words on his tongue. “I just need to get all my things settled into my home. I will be back in an hour…” She pulled her scarf back around her neck and started to walk towards the doors.

A large grin creeped onto Ulfric’s face until Jorleif’s voice snapped him out of his daze. 

“My god, Ulfric, the girl has just arrived in town and you are already trying to bed her.” Jorleif picked up the paperwork off the table and tucked it under his arm, “She didn’t even seem that interested in you.”

Ulfric scoffed and paced farther into the room. “What do you even know, Jorleif? Besides, it's been a long trip - I should let off some steam.”

Jorleif scoffed. “The moment you see a nice-looking woman you seem to forget we are at war, and only think of getting yourself off!”

“Watch your tongue, Jorleif - you seem to for forget who I am,” Ulfric said, towering over him. “You are my steward, not my friend. If you meddle into my personal business like this again, I will gladly replace you.” 

All Jorleif could do was nod, and scurry off to make dinner plans.

\-----------------

Malina arrived back exactly when she said she would, her face and hair looking less disheveled than when she first arrived (the wagon ride had really not given her much choice in the matter of how she looked when she arrived to the city). A male servant walked up to her from the side and startled her.

“I am sorry, my lady… may I take your cloak?” He asked politely, putting out his hands. 

Still calming down from the surprise, she nodded and swung the cloak off her shoulders. The servant walked off, and Malina’s eyes scanned to room to see Ulfric sitting at the long table in the middle of the room. Although it was just the two of them eating, the table was full of enough food for a family of five. Taking notice of Malina, he smiled and waved her over.

Complying, she stood on the opposite side of the table to him. 

“A bit over the top, don’t you think?” She asked, looking down at the freshly cooked meats and vegetables.

“Ah, nothing is too much for a gem like yourself…” He motioned for her to sit, and she did hesitantly. “Dig in, please, I wish only to learn more about you…” 

She smiled a bit, reaching over to grab herself a good serving of roasted potatoes. Ulfric only watched, not even moving to get food. 

“So, Malina… a Nord woman with features like yours is very unusual,” he said, pointing to her ginger hair and the freckles on her cheeks.

Malina gently touched her hair. “Ah, I get that a lot - my mother's bloodline had a lot of red-haired Nords in it, so it was naturally passed down to me and one of my brothers. The others got the blonde hair.” She put a small piece of potato into her mouth, and felt it warm up her insides. “My family has been in Skyrim since the beginning - we were once very well-known scholars and tacticians, but my father wished for us to have a more normal life than one always focused on war and death. My mother still taught us in secret, though - my father found out when our play battles were so complex. When he did, he lost his shit...”

Ulfric sat quietly, collecting all the information she had given him. Something about her intrigued him - she was an example of everything the Nords stood by, and her laugh was absolutely enamoring. 

“So you, yourself, why do you not apply your knowledge?” He spoke, trying not to show how disoriented he made her.

“Ah, I have never been one for politics and war - my parents didn’t want me to grow up into a dangerous profession. Becoming a hunter was about as dangerous as I could get. But they think I’m just hunting wolves and deer - my mother would faint at the sight of the frost troll I bagged a month ago.” She took a piece of meat for herself, seeming to be more comfortable the more she spoke.

The idea of this rather small woman in front of Ulfric killing a frost troll on her own surprised him. If he did not know the thu’um, he would even struggle fighting such an intimidating creature - he was almost taken out by one on his first time up The Seven Thousand Steps. 

He moved out of his daze to see Malina looking at him with her grey eyes. 

“I am almost done eating and you haven’t even touched anything,” she said quietly.

He smiled and shook his head. “I got distracted. You are one of the most remarkable Nord women I have met in my travels.”

She blushed a bit - the tone in his voice was much softer from his usual gruffness. “Uh, thank you…” She gazed at her hands, not wanting to look at him.

He coughed and stood. “Let me go get a bottle of ale - it looks like they only put out wine.” 

He walked away quickly towards the door next to the throne, trying to hide his embarrassment. Jorleif was sitting in a chair in the room, looking through a book.

He looked up slightly from the book and saw it was Ulfric. “You are taking longer than usual. Aren’t you usually up in your bedroom by now?”

Ulfric furrowed his brow, picking up a bottle of ale off the shelf. “Something is different this time, Jorleif. I have had almost every woman in the hold, and yet this only one is the one I am attracted to.”

“Well, if you thought the others were ugly, then why did you sleep with them?” Jorleif asked quizzically.

Ulfric looked down at him. “They were all attractive. I mean something closer to… feelings.” He opened the ale and took a sip. “I mean, it gets me thinking about my future. I am not getting any younger.”

Jorleif put his book down on the table next to him. “You could not possibly be insisting to me that you want to propose marriage to a woman you just met. Has she even showed any interest in you?”

“No, she hasn’t. I don’t think she even wants to sleep with me.” He took another sip. “I need her, Jorleif.” 

There were so many things Jorleif wanted to say to him - the insults, the witty jokes - but he stopped himself. Ulfric was serious. He could see it on his face, and he was already on thin ice with him.

“Why not give her an offer she can’t refuse?”

“Marry me or else?” Ulfric said, tossing the cork from his hand.

“That's not what I meant-”

“No, Jorleif, that’s a great idea. I need my name carried on. I am the true High King of Skyrim, and if she holds as much knowledge as she says she does, she would be an extremely useful asset to me. A true Nord woman to stand by my side…” Ulfric put down the bottle and exited the room. 

Jorleif immediately stood up and followed him - what had he done?

Malina was still sitting at the table, poking her fork into a now cold piece of beef. Ulfric walking quickly towards the table startled her - he stopped only a few feet away from her. 

“Malina, I would like to offer you a position here in the Palace of Kings.” He smiled, and she looked at him quizzically.

“And what would that be?” She stood up to face him, and put her napkin on the table.

Jorleif stood behind him, knowing there was nothing he could do to change what was about to happen. 

Ulfric pursed his lips and spoke. “I am in need of a wife, to carry on my name, and you are someone with such skill and knowledge that you would be an ideal candidate to be the true High Queen of Skyrim - someone to give Elisif a run for her money.”

Malina was shocked - she had not had more than two short conversations with him, and he was proposing marriage. Although marriage for the Nords was not something that needed to happen after months of courting, this was still very unusual. 

“Ulfric you cannot be serious. It may be different if I was wearing an amulet of Mara, or we had known each other for more than a day, but right now, I have no interest in you.”

Ulfric shut his eyes. “Malina, you taking this role would help the rebellion. You would be an icon to every Nord in the province.”

Malina crossed her arms, standing her ground. “I do not support this war. I do not need this fame! I will not marry you, Ulfric.”

Jorleif was actually a bit surprised she was standing up to him - Ulfric was a hulk of a man and he had seen him kill many of the most powerful men in the realm with just one shout. 

Ulfric, however, was done being nice. “Malina, if you do not agree to this, I will make you regret it.”

She tilted her head to the side. “And how will you do that, Ulfric? I can hold my own against any guard in this hold.”

“Ah - I wouldn’t hurt you, per se, but let's just say I know where you are from, and I know your family's name. A few more deaths in a town riddled with them wouldn’t look very suspicious, would it, Malina?” Ulfric took a step closer to her as the colour drained from her face.

Malina took a second to find her words. “You would kill my family in cold blood, just because I won’t marry you? What kind of sick man are you?”

Ulfric raised his voice. “I am the true High King of Skyrim, and you will be my wife, or their blood will be on your hands.”

Malina felt tears rising to the corners of her eyes. “Fine… but if you lay a hand on any member of my family, either directly or indirectly, I will make sure the Stormcloak name is dragged through the mud.”

A grin crept onto his face. “A fair deal. Welcome to the rebellion, Malina Stormcloak.”

\-------

Fourteen months. Fourteen months since she had gotten to live the life she wanted, and it all came tumbling down the day she arrived in this awful city. The people would throw themselves in the freezing ocean for her if it meant pleasing Ulfric, and yet they turned around and blamed the dark elves for all the troubles they ran into. Ulfric, although having built this marriage on a threat, had actually tried a little to make her comfortable, but Malina was too smart to fall for it. 

There was a light knock on the door, 

“Enter,” she spoke. Jorleif opened the wooden door with a creek.

“Ulfric wants to speak to you in the main hall,” he said, holding his hands behind his back. 

After the night she had arrived in Windhelm, Jorleif had grown to be one of her only friends. She suspected that he was the reason that Ulfric had been trying to buy her affection instead of making her stay out of fear.

“I will be right down,” she said quietly. He nodded and left the doorway, leaving Malina to heave a large sigh. “Rat bastard can’t even bother to come and get me himself.”

She made her way down into the main room, the fires inside it roaring, trying unsuccessfully to keep the stone from growing cold. Ulfric smiled when he saw Malina walk through the doorway. 

“Ah, there you are. I have something for you.”

She showed no expression as she walked to the front of his throne. “Please skip the theatrics, Ulfric.” 

“Ah, right. Well, I need you to go to Riften. I think you should take some diplomatic trips - Jorleif thinks that some fresh air may help you.” Ulfric smiled as he spoke, seeing for the first time in months some light in Malina’s eyes. “I just need you to go speak to the Jarl there, Laila Law-Giver. I need you to hear out her request for additional soldiers.”

It was such a boring task to Ulfric, but Malina was beaming - she had always wanted to go to Riften, but she had been stuck in Windhelm the the last year of her life, and Falkreath before that. “When do I leave?”


	2. Riften

The wagon driver held out his hand and carefully helped Malina up to the seats of the covered wagon. She sat down comfortably on the pile of furs that she was provided for travel, and soon a guard came up to join her. Although she was more than capable, Ulfric insisted she travelled with protection. The guard was wearing the faded blue that all Eastmarch soldiers wore, and as he sat he removed his helmet and placed it between his feet. His face showed age through the crows’ feet in the corner of his eyes and the few battle scars that scattered his balding head. His most striking feature was a mustache that reached all the way under his chin. 

“Good morning, my lady,” he said, smiling and nodding to her, “I’m Anved. I am an officer for the Stormcloaks, so don’t worry about being sent away from home with someone who barely knows what they are doing.” He laughed warmly, and it made Malina relax herself a bit.

“Well, Anved, we have a long journey ahead of us. I hope you make good company.” She smiled and pulled a blanket over herself.

“I sure hope so too - my wife would kill me if she knew I had bored the Jarl’s wife,” he joked, standing up and putting his hand on the drivers arm. “Aye, I think we are ready to go, Alfarinn.” 

The driver nodded, and Anved sat down as the carriage lurched forward onto the road.

“Ulfric must be worried about this trip if he didn’t just send me with one of the Hold guards,” Malina commented, holding onto the side of the wagon for support.

Anved laughed. “You are his wife, after all, but I think it's mostly because we are coming around to Thieves’ Guild territory. Ulfric also has many enemies, and you are a way to get to him.”

She had never thought of herself as a weakness to Ulfric - of course, she could care less if something happened to him (in fact, she would encourage it). The rebellion would crumble without their leader and she would be free to live her life, but nobody would be dumb enough to enter that throne room with the thought of killing a man who harnesses the power of the thu’um. 

Malina, on the other hand, is very important to Ulfric - the idiot actually thinks he is in love with her. In her mind, if you truly love something, you let it do what it wants, and not threaten to kill its family. 

Malina sighed and curled up tighter in her blanket. 

“How long is this trip?” She asked Anved, trying to take her mind off the anger that started to pool in her chest.

“Ah, a day and a half. We aren’t going to stop for safety reasons, so me and the driver will swap when he gets tired. So I hope you are fine sleeping on the wagon.” Anved leaned back onto the bench he was sitting on so he was laying down. “I myself need to catch a few winks for when we switch.”

“Have a good sleep, then.” Malina said politely, trying to not think too hard about what he had said earlier.

\---------

The wagon ride was uneventful; the driver and Anved swapped only twice before Riften was in sight. It was midday when they finally rolled up to the stables. Anved hopped off the back of the wagon so he could help Malina down. For once, she appreciated the help - her legs were almost jelly after that long ride. 

“It's been a while since I’ve seen somewhere with no snow on the ground - I almost forgot what grass looked like.” 

Anved laughed as he pulled their bags from the wagon.

“So, Malina, Jarl Laila has allowed you to stay in the Keep. I will be in the local Inn - I think it's called the Bee-and-something. I would prefer if you walked the streets with me close, but if you want to wander alone, at least stay around the view of the guards.” He held out her bag to her. “There are thieves everywhere. Be careful.”

She smiled and took her bag. “I wasn’t always sitting in that palace, Anved. Don’t worry too much.”

“Just doing my job,” he sighed. With a smile, he put his own bag over his back. “After you, then.”

Malina politely nodded to him and walked carefully over the gate, trying not to step in the mud of the stables. The guards were already opening the gates for her by the time she reached the arch. 

The sounds of the generally small Hold started to become very noticeable. Even though the trade that used to bustle through Riften had almost completely dried up, the residents were still working very hard at selling their wares. The loud yelling and the banging from the blacksmith and the chatter of passerby gave a certain liveliness to the city. Malina didn’t realize she had stopped to look in awe until Anved put his hand on her upper back. 

“My lady, there is plenty of time to gauk once you get settled.”

Malina nodded and let Anved walk her towards the keep. A few wandering eyes were drawn to her, and for the first time she realized how much she did not blend in anymore with the common people. Her fur cloak was well-kept and her dress was free from any dirt, which could not be said for the handful of people in the market giving her a side glance. 

Anved got her to the doors to the Keep and let her go. “I will go get myself a room. Please don’t do anything stupid.” 

She nodded in agreement, pushing the door open. She was greeted for the first time in a few days with a warm room. There was large table in the centre of the room, and just beyond it sat the Jarl to the Rift, Laila Law-Giver. She seemed to be discussing something with a short, black-haired woman.

“Laila, if anyone comes to let him out, come to me before having anything done by the guards,” The woman demanded, almost as if the Jarl was her inferior. “Sibbi is to stay there until I say.”

Laila sighed. “I can arrange that, Maven. If you wish to discuss this further, you will have to come back later - my company has arrived.” 

Maven turned to see Malina standing at the door, twisting her hair between her fingers. Malina herself could feel the iciness in her gaze. 

“Ah, Ulfric's doll.” Maven walked over to Malina, now holding herself more formally. Their heights almost matching, her eyes stopped at Malina’s pale green eyes, and a frown started to form on her face. “You have many secrets, Lady Stormcloak…” 

Maven walked away from her and out of the door, leaving Malina standing there like she had just experienced one of the Nine Divines blessing her. 

“Sorry about her, Malina - that was Maven Black-Briar, a name I think you will be hearing a lot in your stay,” Laila said, standing up to properly greet Malina. “It's an honour to meet you. Your husband is a legend around here.” 

As Laila mentioned Ulfric, all the contentment Malina had just felt disappeared. She had forgotten she was here on business and not just to sightsee. 

“Nice to meet you, Jarl Laila. It’s very nice of you to keep me up in your Hold while we are having our discussions.” Malina put her bag down near the door and walked over to greet the Jarl properly.

Laila smiled at her and bowed her head. “It has probably been a long trip in - my steward can show you where you will be staying. I think it would be rude to start a business meeting when one of the parties isn’t well-rested.”

Malina smiled. “That's very kind of you. Thank you, Laila.” 

Malina was ecstatic - she wanted to look around quite badly. Laila’s steward had retrieved her bag and walked up next to the two of them.

“I only wish to put down my cloak and see my room - I would love to look around the city,” Malina said, turning to the Bosmer woman who had appeared next to her. 

“Ah - follow me, then, my lady,” the steward spoke sweetly, leading her through the arch behind the thrones.

“That is my steward, Anuriel - you are in her room,” Laila explained, turning to return to her seat. Seeing this as a sign to move along, Malina followed the steward down the hall to a small room.

“Here you are,” Anuriel said, placing the bag on the bed. “If you need anything, just come to me.”

Before Malina could turn to thank Anuriel, the woman was already gone. 

“Of course…” 

She undid the clasp at the top of her cloak and flung it onto her bed. Since it was much warmer here, she assumed she could just walk around without it. She also disliked how much it made her stand out, wishing she had come to Riften before she became some symbol of the resistance. She sighed, slipping her coin purse onto her hip. She promised Jorleif that she would pick him up some Black-Briar mead, but she also had some coin to buy herself some gifts.

She fixed her hair in the mirror and made her way out of the bedroom back down the hall into the main room. Things had seemed to resume their pace as the court wizard was discussing something with Laila. Seeing as the Jarl was preoccupied, Malina used this moment to sneak out. As nice as Laila was, the constant clambering over the fact that she was Ulfric's wife made her want to jump into the canal. 

The fresh air outside made her very happy - she took a moment to breath it in before heading down the stone stairs into the small market. She stopped in front of the calm-eyed Argonian and looked over the glass cases on the top of his table. 

“If anything pleases the eye, don't hesitate to make me an offer,” reassured the Argonian’s soft voice.

Malina’s eyes bounced from item to item until her eyes fixed on a well-made ring - a gold band adorned with a perfect emerald. She picked it up and carefully looked it over. 

“Such a beautiful stone! Where did you find such a fine emerald?” 

“Ah, one of my favourite pieces I made! An adventurer came through a month ago - he said he had gotten the emerald from an old Dwemer ruin. He gave me a good price - never even gave me his name. I suppose the mystery adds to the piece.” The Argonian smiled and reached out to put the ring on her finger.

Malina looked over the ring as she held it up to the light. “How much did you want for it?”

“Ah, such a fine piece. A thousand gold is as low as I could let it go for.” He smiled, and Malina considered it for a second.

She reached to her hip and pulled out her coin purse. “I suppose I will take it, then.” 

She paid the very happy Argonian, sliding the ring carefully onto her left middle finger next to the almost equally spectacular wedding ring Ulfric had given her. His family crest was carved carefully into the band, and a sapphire sat in the middle. All it did was remind her that she should pick up the mead she promised to Jorleif.


End file.
